We'll Bring Neon To Its Knees
by beLIEve710
Summary: What happens when Olivia Stone, a hopeless, cynical cocktail waitress, meets the fun-loving, thrill-seeking illusionist Criss Angel? Well...black magic.
1. Chapter 1

"You should have seen what Jimmy did yesterday. He blew up our microwave! Four years old and he's already a pyromaniac! You know some days I wish I never would've had him, he's such a hassle."

"Oh, I know! Victoria's the same way!"

These two women didn't understand what they were saying. Living without their children, wishing they never had them. If only they knew the true pain that came alone with what they were saying. Some days, every day, I wish I had my child with me.

TWO YEARS AGO

Three years ago, I never would've thought I'd be in this position; sitting on a bench at the local playground. Children were the last thing on my mind; in fact the only thing on my mind was cocaine, heroin, and marijuana, pretty much anything I could get my hands on. When I slept with my drug dealer for a few free lines, I never planned to get pregnant.

I never planned on selling my stash to pay for doctor's bills. No way did I think I'd stop going up the alley, and start going up the baby aisle. No one planned on me going through with it; they thought, "that Olivia Stone can't live without being stoned for 9 months." So nine months later when Kendrick Adrian Stone came along, everyone was shocked, but not as much as me.

There was no way I could give him his father's last name; you only can be as successful as your father. Not my son, my son would do great things, he would rise above all of us. He'd do the things I never had the chance to do. As far as I was concerned, this was the Virgin Birth.

And Kenny was my savior, he saved me from myself. This little black-haired, green-eyed boy changed me more than anyone else in the world ever could. Having him around me was just like being high.

Whenever he laughed, it felt like all of my troubles slipped away. For one second, everything stopped and I felt truly satisfied. Kenny never judged me, he never looked down on me as "the crackwhore" like the rest of the world did. So he slowly became my world. I never would have let him out of my sight if I had the chance, I'd never let anything in the world hurt him. I'd be his shield, his protector.

He came running over when I called his name and hugged my legs, "Five more minutes, Mommy? Please?"

"We gotta get to the doctors, Ken'. I'm sorry sweetie," I answered.

His little green eyes gave me that look. What could possibly be more important than playing, "But I made so many friends!"

These friends were every child playing on the playground. At that age, no one judged there were no cliques; they understood the true meaning of love. It was simple, pure, and blind. I hated to take him away from this sanctuary into the cruel, heartless world.

"I'm sure they'll still be here once we get back from the doctors, okay?" I assured and messed up his shaggy hair.

"Okay," he agreed and took my hand, "They give me popsicles at the doctor."

"Only if you're good," I pointed out.

"Mom, give me a break, I'm always good."

I laughed at him. All he wanted to do was grow bigger, get tougher, and get smarter. It was me that wanted everything in his world to stay as perfect as it is now," I know you are bud."

"Why do I have to go the doctors anyway? I wash my hands when you say. And Grandma gives me an apple everyday at lunch, why doesn't he stay away?" he questioned.

"Because sometimes all that stuff doesn't help. Nasty, evil germs break through and attack!"

With that, I started to make a sound like a fighter jet and chase him up the sidewalk. People stared, but I didn't care. The only thing that I saw was my son and laughing and having the time of his life. Little did I know how little time he had left in that life.

Once we were at the doctor's office, Kenny decided that if he shot away at the air with his hand pistols, no germs could get him. I set him down and he shot at me, "I've gotta get all the germs off you, Mommy, they can't attack you!"

"You saved me! Good work, Captain Kenny," I congratulated and saluted him.

"I'm gonna over to the blocks! But I'll kill the germs first!" he announced and ran over still wrapped up in his own imagination.

"Quite a wild one you've got there," the nurse smiled.

"Yeah, he's in his own little world," I said.

"They all are at that age."

I hated when people said that. Kenny was special and I knew it. At that moment, I started to make plans for his future. Twenty minutes later my plans, my world came crashing down, "Can I speak to you outside, Mrs. Stone?"

Kenny was preoccupied playing with the doctor's stethoscope. We stepped into the hall, "And it's Miss Stone by the way."

"I'm sorry, Miss Stone, so I assume you make a fair income on your own?" he asked.

"We get by," I answered.

"Do you have enough money to pay for a trip to the hospital?"

My heart stopped, "Hospital?"

"Um…I think Kendrick needs to be looked at more thoroughly."

"For what?"

"Has he been tired lately?"

"All little kids are tired after running around all day," I defended.

"But overly tired?"

Kenny loved to sneak into my bed and sleep until noon. I never thought about what that really meant, "Doctor, what are you saying?"

"Judging by my examination your son is showing the first signs of leukemia. But if we catch it early on, and with money and treatment…"

Apparently we didn't catch it early enough. No money, no treatment, no popsicle in the world could save Kenny. Our trips to the playground became fewer and shorter. His beautiful dark hair started to fall out and the glitter in his eyes faded away. After six months of fighting, my angel lost. My Armageddon came and my world came crashing down.

It slowly became the drug-infested, down and out world it was before. Except this time I knew there was more to life than that. I'd had it and I'd lost it.

PRESENT TIME

So I come and sit on this playground bench everyday. I watch the other people take advantage of the wonderful lives they had. Sometimes I could still see Kenny sliding down the slide or playing in the sandbox. But I'll never see that again; hope, love, and joy.

A hand grasped my shoulder. The cool, metal rings made it feel like that hand of death. I turned around to see a man with wild cascading hair down to his shoulders. He was tan, well-built and his eyes could look right into your soul.

I've seen him before though. Usually he had a crowd walking around with him. He was Criss Angel, _Mindfreak, _"Hi, ma'am, mind if I have a seat?"

The camera crew came around and started to film us. He hopped the back of the bench and crossed one leg over the other, "First off, what's your name?"

"Olivia," I replied not breaking our glance,

"Beautiful name," he commented, "Now, correct me if I'm wrong but you did say I could have this seat didn't you?"

"Yea, you can sit here, its fine," I assured.

"Maybe I should've chosen my words better, can I TAKE this seat? Stand up for me."

I did as I was told. I've seen him performing for people during my breaks at the Aladdin, but I could never figure him out. There was some simple trick to it all. How couldn't I see it?

"Olivia, you can vouch that we've never met before, this isn't prearranged?" he quizzed.

"No, of course not," I answered and put my hands in my pockets.

"Alright," he started and covered the bench I've been sitting on for so long was still there. Once I stepped away I looked at him, "It's under there."

"John, if I could get a continuous shot…"

My eyes followed him everywhere he went. All he was doing was breathing deeply and pacing around. So when he ripped off the sheet and it was gone, I was stunned.

The bench was gone. It was one of the only things I had to remember Kenny by. And like that, it just disappeared. So much of my past was in that piece of wood, and it vanished.

"Alright, cut!" he called, "You like that?"

"How the hell did you that?" I asked.

"You've never seen me before? I never show my secrets," he replied.

"Yea, I've seen you at the Aladdin…"

"You work there?"

"And live there, too…"

"Good to know," he smiled and started to turn around.

"Criss!"

He turned on his heel and looked at me, "Yea?"

"Where did the bench go?" I questioned.

"Doesn't it just matter that it's gone? I'll see you around," he promised and strutted away.

So in ten minutes, one man did what two years and therapists couldn't; help me forget the past.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks so much for the great reviews! Hope you enjoy!**

I ran out of the room and up the hallway. My manager would kill me if I was late again. So even though I was in three and a half inch heels I ran. Once I got there another one of the waitresses, my closest friend, was hanging around, "Hey, Liv."

"Hi, Bethany, where am I at?" I asked and tied the little black pouch around my waist.

"Can you take the dining room today? I'm so hungover, I can't be trusted with sharp glass and silverware?" she requested.

"No problem," I agreed, "Dollar drafts, again?"

"And some free shots," she added and rubbed her head.

"Try to stand behind the desk and don't throw up again. No one will buy the food poisoning excuse twice," I ordered.

"Okay," she groaned.

"And if you need to throw up or relax or something here's my room key. It's 313," I added.

"You're so maternal, Liv, I don't know what I'd do without you."

If only she knew how maternal I once was. What she doesn't know won't hurt her. I never let anyone in on my past unless they already know. I walked over to a table, "Hi, what can I get for you?"

"Be a doll and get us a gin and tonic and whiskey on the rocks," the guy said.

One thing that sucked about being a waitress was the men. They assumed you were a curvy robot who solely existed to refill their drinks. As I walked over to the bar, I heard Bethany's giggles. What was wrong with her now?

"What's that behind your ear?"

The man can levitate and cremate himself and he still does stuff like that. I haven't seen him or talked to him since the park incident. And I didn't need a crystal ball to see that I didn't plan on it anytime in the near future. He clearly had different plans though as he stalked over, "What about you, is there something behind there, too?"

"It's in your hand," I informed just as he was reaching behind my ear.

"Oh, so you know that one," he said defeated and put the quarter into his pocket.

"I'm pretty sure everyone knows that one," I added.

"I've been looking for you, ya know."

"That's comforting, I'm being stalked by a magician," I thought out loud.

"It's not really stalking. If I really wanted to find you I'd break into your room or something," he assured.

"So what you're really saying is you don't really wanted to find me?"

"Why do you gotta go and twist my words around like that? It hurts, Liv, it really hurts. I'm doing a near death stunt tonight, and I'd hate you to have to deal with that on your conscience if something does go wrong."

"I think I'll learn to live with myself," I assured sarcastically, "Now, excuse me, I have work to do."

"Wait," he stopped, "Why don't you come?"

It was clear that I wasn't going anywhere unless I at least lied and said I would go, "Maybe I'll swing by once I get off."

He smiled satisfied and started to leave, "See you there."

"I only said maybe!" I reminded.

"I'm a mentalist, remember?"

"More like mental," I mumbled and walked over to Bethany, "My pen ran out of ink."

"God is he sexy and a half," she raved.

"Stop talking like a twelve year old girl and pay attention," I instructed.

"He looked really into you," she informed.

"No, he looked like he REALLY wanted to get INTO my pants," I corrected.

"And what's wrong with that? That's how a vast majority of my relationships go down," she added.

"Yeah, down the toilet," I shot back.

"How many people have you had sex with, Olivia?" she asked.

"Isn't that a little personal?"

"No, you don't have to be embarrassed, not everyone's really active. What is it, 5, 6?" she interrogated.

"2."

"Two?! Were you in a convent for half of your life?!" she shouted.

"Shut up! See, I knew you'd make a big deal out of it!" I shushed.

"Well, it is a big deal! You're wasting your youth, when was the last time you had sex?" she pressed on.

"I am definitely not answering that," I denied still searching for a writing utensil.

"Olivia, for the love of God!"

"Two years, okay! I haven't had sex in two years!" I shared a little louder than I had planned.

"Two years?! Attention, all men…"

"Bethany, knock it off!"

"Well, you're going to that stunt tonight, and maybe if we're lucky he'll give you a little action," she decided.

Bethany just didn't understand. Getting laid or fooling around held no desire for me. Those phrases were so ugly and shallow. They don't show the true beauty of what's supposed to happen when you do that; a baby.

That's right; so many times people forget that those parts weren't just put there to have fun with. They have a purpose, one that I know all too much about. Ever since Kenny left my life, I haven't wanted to have sex. What if I had another baby and they got ripped away from me just like he was? I couldn't deal with that again.

Plus, aren't you supposed to have sex because you're in love? Isn't that why some people call it "making love?" Well, my idea of love fell into the grave with the undersized coffin of my little boy.


	3. READERS

Hey guys

Hey guys! I just wanted to let everybody know that I'm haven't forgotten about posting or died a sudden death. Have you ever had an idea completely formulated in your head, but can't figure out exactly how to put it down on paper? I'm currently in one of those ruts; it's kind of like having half-writers block. I'm really sorry to keep everyone waiting, and I promise I'll update the second I get unblocked.

beLIEve710


	4. Chapter 3

I sloshed the orange vodka around in my glass. The swirling, tangerine liquid distracted me from the memories swirling around in my mind.

"Mommy, I drew you a picture!"

Another long sip sent the recollection back to where it came from. Whoever saud that alcohol couldn't solve your problems was dead wrong. Four glasses later and I was feeling a lot better than before.

"Olivia! Liv! Olvia!"

"Huh?"

"You have somewhere you need to be!" she sang.

"You're right, I need to be sitting here with a full glass of this shit. Bartender!" I called.

He ambled over with the almost empty bottle, "You almost finished this one up, lady."  
"Take it out of my paycheck," I instructed and eyed up the vodka as it poured into my glass.

As soon as it was full, I tipped it back. Bethany pounded her hand on the bar, "Olivia Isobel Stone!"

"Who the hell told you my name?"

"Stop changing the subject, now would you rather see Criss Angel deft death or drink your weight in fruity vodka?" she asked.

"Do you want the honest answer to that question?"

"Come on!"

Before she could pull me away, I guzzled it down. The last of it slid down my throat and temporarily blocked out Bethany's shouts. As soon as I stood up, the room slanted and spun around, "Jesus!"

When I'm sitting down, it's easy for me to hold down my alcohol. Once I stood up though, my logic and sanity slipped away.

"Come on, let's go!"

I followed her through the hall in a slightly crooked line. Everything seemd a lot louder than it usually is in the lobby. The cold air from the outside didn't stun me as much as it should have. My senses were going numb.

"It's freezing out here! Isn't Las Vegas supposed to be hot?" Bethany complained.

"Deserts get cold at night, stupid!" I laughed as we approached a group of people.

Was I really that drunk or was the crane really that tall? What's that box over there? I really wish I knew if it was happening like I saw it, or if it was the glasses I'd just downed that I was seeing.

"Olivia!"

Two strong arms wrapped around me. It took me a little but to register who it was, "Hey, Criss."

My cheery non-sarcastic reply must have shocked him. He didn't plan on showing any sign of it though, "I'm glad you could come."

"Who would pass up a chance to watch you get yourself killed?"

Normally, I would've added a harsh laugh and sneer. Now a giggle and flirty smile followed. This night was already headed down the wrong path.

Picking up on how trashed I was, he asked, "Then how about a kiss goodbye."

Damn him for taking advantage of how vulnerable I am, "I'll hold that until you come back."

"Why not now?" he pressed on.

"What, you don't think you're gonna make it out of this one?"

He huffed and started to walk away, "Don't make promises you won't keep."

"I'm no-ot!" I promised and pulled my jacket tighter.

Bethany walked back from talking to a group of guys, "2, 3, 4 numbers. How are things on the Virgin Islands?"

"I'm not a virgin," I corrected.

"So you're a used car with a few miles in you that hasn't been out of the driveway for a while? Virgin sounds a lot better," she informed.

I sighed and turned towards where Criss was bellowing through a megaphone, "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, are you ready to see some crazy shit?"

We all clapped and shouted in response. Once the noise died down, he continued, "Alright, I'm gonna be locked inside this barrel and handcuffed through these holes. Can you check and make sure this is what I say it is?"

A man came up and kicked at the wine barrel and nodded, "That's not all though, This barrell is going to be hoisted above the ground and come falling down three minutes later whether I'm in it or not."

Either he was as drunk as I am, or he really is insane. As he crawled inside and was handcuffed through the holes, I couldn't take my eyes off of the scene. He was actually putting his life on the line for no reason at all.

I should be ranting about how he just takes his life for granted like that. But I don't feel the least bit angry or resentful towards him. In fact, as they hoisted the barrel high over my head, I felt worry.

How was I worrying over him. I didn't care enough about him to have these butterflies churning inside of me. It has to be the vodka, this isn't me.

As the clock slowly ticked down, the butterflies started to fly faster and faster. Where was he? The timer hit zero and my heart dropped with the barrel.

The water and wood splashed everywhere, but there was no sign of Criss. My eyes flitted around the parking lot. Appear, poof, do something!

"Oh my God, he's up there! What the hell?"

A sigh of relief heaved my chest forward and down. He came down on a safety line and a crew quickly unbuckled him. Instead of walking around to see his loyal fans, he came straight to me.

I smiled in confusion and amazement, "How did you…"

He moved his hands to the sides of my face and pulled me to his lips. Why was I enjoying this? This was supposed to be romantic and special, isn't that how it works? It turns out I had so much to learn about this, and unfortunately this was the man that was going to teach me.

**Sorry, it had to be done! I promise more interesting stuff!**


	5. Chapter 4

A million times sorry this took a thousand years. I've been caught up in so many things I've neglected this. I'll try to be less sporadic with my updates, I apologize.

Oh yeah: DISCLAIMER- I do not own Criss Angel or any of his franchise. He escaped from my handcuffs….

Bright light hit my eyes like some kind of nuclear bomb. The crummy hotel pillow didn't do much in keeping it out of my face. I could feel the scratchy fabric run up against my bare skin, too. God, when was the last time I woke up in Vegas in somebody else's bed with this bad of a hangover?

Stomach acid slowly inched its way up my throat. Quickly trying to escape the blankets, I rolled down bringing the entire bed set with me. Now I'm tangled in the sheets for the second time in the past 8 hours, perfect.

The digital clock read 8:13, shit. I was supposed to be on the early shift this morning, fuck. My boss is gonna have my head on a stick, or worse the night shift. Drunken turned-down guys tend to want something a little extra with their drink.

My clothes were scattered under the bed. Getting dressed was like solving a jigsaw puzzle with the massive hangover I'd managed to give myself. My head throbbed as I stood up and found my phone on the floor. After about a minute of recalling, I managed to get the doorknob to turn.

As I started down the stairs, thoughts of what my boss would tell me filled my mind. I've always been one of his favorites, he's told me on several occasions. Some of the past compliments have been, "You got your head on straight, Stone" and "Get off the Strip before you start to strip." And then only when he's drunk, "Look better in that uniform than any of these other hoes."

I wouldn't consider him a friend or even an acquaintance. He's the closest thing I have to a parent figure ever since my mom passed away. About a year after Kenny died, so did she. Some of us are just lucky, aren't we?

It really scares me that I can just talk about it like that anymore. You'd think I was just chatting it up about the weather instead of talking about the woman who brought me into this world. Growing up, I made her life a living hell and I know it.

She was a single parent just like I was. I was her everything and I couldn't do anything for her. Can you imagine finding the little girl you'd tried so desperately hard to bring out of your mess taking lines in the two bedroom apartment you'd worked your ass off to get?

My mom, or Rhonda as I'd taken to calling her in my most rebellious stage, worked two jobs and any odd gig she could get. Her unspoken third job was to crash into the living room chair and wait into the wee hours for me to come home, or for the phone call saying I would never come home.

And it wasn't like she could call the police for help to find her crack head daughter running around in the alleys. So she slowly became my social worker, security guard, and paramedic on top of being my mom. If she would've decided to give up on me, I was as good as dead.

When I got pregnant with Kenny, she took me under her wing once more. She gave me a few of her cleaning jobs and helped me pay for the prenatal care. Once I hit 7 months, she did practically everything for me, from catering to my cravings to locking me in a room when my withdrawal got too bad.

She never told me flat out, but I knew exactly what she was doing. I'd failed her as a kid, but she thought she'd failed as a parent. This baby would be her redemption. She'd mold him into something so wonderful, it would undo the damage she did the world with me.

We lived with her until I got that shitty apartment. She watched Kenny anytime I asked, no exceptions. If I was short on rent, she spotted me demanding me that I "pay her back." Never once did she make me pay up. My mom was an amazing woman, an amazing, amazing woman.

A tiny tear slid down my cheek causing the little amount of make-up left on my face to run. There's one thing I remember from English class, one of the few days I went to school sober. The teacher said that tears symbolize either compassion or guilt.

My tears are for both. I understand what my mom went through with me. I know what it's like to watch your baby slowly wasting away without them knowing it. Now I know. And the guilt I have for not seeing it earlier or doing something about it keeps the tears falling.

His reaction to me wasn't any different than I'd expected. The cigar that was jammed in his mouth fell unto the bar. I figure I must've been quite a sight; same clothes as yesterday, ashen, hair a mess, and my eyes redder than the lipstick I was forced to wear, "Stone?"

"I'm so sorry I'm late, sir, I didn't realize what time it was…."

"What the hell happened to you?" It was a pointless question that both of us knew the answer to.

"I was…"

"Out late? Trashed? Sleeping around?" he guessed right on the money, "Nothing I wouldn't expect from any of these waitresses. But not from you, Stone, I thought I could expect more from you…"

"I'm sorry…"

"Save it, I'm not firing you. I'd be a fool to think I could find someone half as reliable as you are, were," he said, "That's what this place does to good girls like you. They come here thinking they'll bring neon to its knees, and they just end up down on theirs."

"I promise, sir, it'll never happen again."

"Don't give me empty promises, Stone. You had a taste; don't pretend like you won't go back for more. Be here for the morning shift tomorrow, don't disappoint me,"

he ordered.

"Yessir," I agreed.

"Now go get yourself cleaned up. Christ, you look awful," he practically spat.

So I started back to my room knowing how bad I'd fucked up. I'd managed to make one person have faith in me, turned over a new leaf. The real person always shows through the disguise no matter how hard you try. All I want to do is take a shower and wash away how disgusting I feel inside and out.

The second I unlocked the door, "Just getting back now? I'm surprised I couldn't hear the headboard from in here."

"Bethany, what are you doing in here?!"

It was amazing how no matter what time of the day you talked to her she was always tipsy. This was no exception. She looked up at me and laughed maniacally as she rolled in my bed, "I took your key when you weren't looking. I'd make a good pickpocket, huh?"

"Have you been here all night?"

"Yeah, you might wanna have the maid bring you some new sheets. This is a really good book I found in your pillow. Look how they made the font look like real handwriting and everything."

My journal lay in front of her wide open. Half the pages were already read over, half my secrets revealed. Everything I'd tried so hard to keep from her was now common knowledge, "I feel really bad for this girl…"

"PUT THAT DOWN WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" I bellowed and snatched it from her.

"God, Liv, I was just…"

"GET OUT! GET OUT NOW!"

"Fine, jeez don't get your panties in a bunch. Do you still have them on?"

I chucked the book at the door missing her head by a few mere inches. The pages pried away from the binding and scattered everywhere. In frenzy, I fell to the ground and ripped each piece to shreds. Words like "Kenny" and "Mom" caught my eye and only made me tear harder.

I'm so tired of trying to be what I'm not. Olivia Stone isn't some emotionless, goodie-good waitress. She's a fuck-up druggie, fuck-up daughter, fuck-up parent everything. Everyone needs to fit it into their own nitch. It's time for me to go back to mine.


	6. Chapter 5

Every ounce of notoriety that comes with cocaine is as earned as the week's wages I spent on it. The fine white powder splices your memory to even thinner strips. First, I remember anxiously taking a line off of the car hood of my new dealer.

"Look like you won't be getting that sobriety pin, princess," he chuckled fanning through my bundle of ones and fives.

"Does it look like I give a fuck about being sober?" I retorted.

My mind enters a long tunnel emerging to the bright spotlight and lowlights of a nightclub. Two pale blue eyes of one of the many businessmen who blows his commission on the Vegas nightlife, "Why don't you give it a shot?"

The thing silver pole pulsated with green hues," I can think of a hundred less humiliating ways to kill myself, thanks."

Pulling out his wallet, he goaded, "I have a hundred saying you should."

Cold metal against my skin shocked me out of my mental chasm. Blaring music and chants ripped though my afflicted senses. Money littered the platform around me.

"Bitch, what the Hell did you stop for? I'm not paying you…"

Before he finished and I registered being pulled down from the stage, darkness engulfed me. Once I resurfaced, my spinning head was bouncing against a hard back covered with soft fabric. Two heavy boots plodded across the fluorescent Strip sidewalk.

Oblivion surrounded me for what felt like seconds yet years. At the furthest edges of the abyss, a whisper echoed, "Mommy."

Breathing alarmed, I glanced terrified around an unknown living room.

"Calm down, Sleeping Beauty."

Spinning around to glance over the couch's headrest, "You? Wait. What the Hell?"

Criss stepped into the room I deduced was his, "Well, morning to you, too. Coffee?"

"Why the FUCK am I in your room?" I shrieked.

"Please, take the cup you need it more than I do," he foisted the drink on me.

"Is it laced with Roofalin by any chance?" I challenged,

With a chuckle, "You seem to be pretty good at knocking yourself out with drugs all on your own."

"Dick," I remarked accepting the dark brew defeated.

"Oh, what was that? Thank you, Criss, for saving me from whoring myself out to yuppies at the Belagio then looking after me for three days. You're so very welcome, Olivia, it was my pleasure."

"Three days? You've kept me locked in here for three days? I have a job, Criss, well had now…"

"You're covered, you friend, what was her name, Bethany, took your shifts. She seems pretty concerned about you, too," he informed.

"What do you mean, too? You've known me for a week, you hardly get a too," I snapped standing only yo fall back to the cushion head spinning.

He placed a hand on my back comfortingly, "Are you okay? Do you need anything?"

No stranger to the morning after a hard night, "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I'm good."

Taking a deep breath I finally let a smile unfold across my face in front of him, "Listen, Criss, I'm sorry I've been such a bitch with you, I just. I don't even know why. Thank you so much for everything and you know what? Let me take you out someplace to make up for it."

As his face took on an expression mirroring mine, "Well, I'll take your bait, but there's no way I'm letting any lady pay for me."

In a second more successful attempt, I walked towards the door, "Okay sounds good, I'll talk to you later. I assume you know where I live since you've apparently been following me."

"Room 313?"

"How in the Hell do you know that?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."


	7. Chapter 6

Hey, guys! I've finally decided an ending, so expect about a chapter a week. Reviews and comments are encouraged! Thank you so much!

I've always been the type of person who deals in concrete facts and examples. Before my narcotics habit flared out of control, I was enrolled as an economics major at Nevada State. By now, I'd be in my senior year ready to take on the odds of the workplace. Now the only percentage relevant to my life is the 15% I bring in.

But this week is slowly chopping away at my logical perception of everything. Benches do not just dissipate into thin air. Men who allegedly have the power to make these benches disappear don't suddenly become obsessed with minimum wage earning waitresses. Reformed waitresses don't decide to reestablish nasty drug addictions only to be saved by crazed magicians. And finally, cynical bitches don't change at the drop of a hat.

"Oh my God, Olivia!"

Also, what are the chances of walking into an elevator to see your estranged and only friend? Bethany's impossibly tanned arms flung around my neck, "Olivia, I've been trying to find you, I've been worried sick. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm okay," I answered awkwardly as she frisked me for signs of injury.

Tears clouded her blue eyes sending mascara streaming down her cheeks, "I honestly didn't know it was your journal, Liv. I swear to God, I never would've even touched it if I did."

Taking my turn to embrace her thin form, I assured, "Don't sweat it, Bethany, I should've told you everything in there a long time ago."

"And about Kenny and your mom. I know it's not the same, but I lost my dad in eighth grade. So if you ever need to talk?"

"I'd love that," the doors clicked open on my floor, "I'm pretty sure there are Dawson's Creek re-runs playing all day if you're not busy? And I don't think my ice cream expired yet?"

"Please, I was just gonna do the same thing alone in my apartment. This way makes me seem like way less of a loser," she accepted pulling me up the hallway as we shamelessly giggled like two teenagers.

As I wrestled my key card out of my wallet, she barraged, "What kind of ice cream?"

"Assuming it doesn't look like a science project, chocolate. What other kind is there?" I challenged surprised at myself I was actually bonding with another human being.

"I knew there was a reason I liked you, Stone."

Aside from the newly immaculate state of my room, two plants on my end table immediately grabbed my attention. One small pot of yellow alstroemeria innocently perched on the edge. The other massive rose bouquet cascaded out of black glass vase leaving the small flowers in its shadow.

"Holy shit, mine just looks pathetic now!" she remarked revealing the giver of the delicate blossoms.

"It's the thought that counts, thank you so much," I told her quickly moving the pot to the windowsill to give it light.

"Who's the entire garden from?'

Amongst the baby's breath sat thirteen perfectly bloomed red roses. Handwritten ink sprawled across the card, "Olivia, I hope this second round goes far better than our first. Also, I hope I guessed your favorite flower right. Then again, roses are sort of a give. Thinking of you, Criss."

"Let's see here, who would send Olivia flowers? One of the countless customers who stare at your ass at the restaurant, men and women, your gynecologist, Santa Claus, Criss…"

"Bingo."

"What? I wish my one night stands would send me flowers. These are gorgeous," she ranted stepping forward to examine each petal.

"Well, we do have a date tomorrow, so…"

"WHAT?"

"Will you stop asking that?"

"I practically had to drag you to even meet the guy and now you're, wow, I never thought you were the dating type," she ranted as she rifled through my modest-sized closet, "Where are all your clothes?"

"You're looking at them," I answered confused.

"These are work clothes and one dress that looks like the one my mother forced me to wear on Easter Sunday when I was 12!" she snapped haughtily.

"Well, sorry, I don't know about you, but my tips aren't getting me a top of the line wardrobe," I defended.

"Christ, Olivia, there's no way in Hell you're going on a date where paparazzi will probably follow you looking like the help. So you are going to take the tips I got on your shift where your regulars kept asking where the brunette was and buy yourself something amazing," she explained slapping a wad of bills into my hand.

The hundred dollars the "yuppie" bribed me with to pole dance burned a hole in my pocket. If I'm going to turn over yet another new leaf, I have to erase everything that hasn't been made permanent, "Thanks, but I got it. You're okay with missing Dawson?"

"Screw Dawson, I've seen every episode 3 times. Let's go!" she grabbed my hand as we charged down the hall.

What makes you forget the past afflictions on your heart more than any drug in the world is letting a new friend in.


	8. Chapter 7

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Shave and a haircut pounded against my door reminding me 8:00 had finally arrived. As I finished the final touches on my smoky eyes, I called, "Just a second!"

If I tried to perfect my dark tresses again, my hair may just singe from my head for good. According to Bethany no one would notice anything above my neck with my display of cleavage. Finally grabbing my purse from the edge of my bed, I turned the knob stepping over the threshold, "Hey, sorry about that."

"No problem, some things are worth waiting for," he excused failing to execute an inconspicuous up down, "You look great. Wow."

Any lingering doubts I had about the bustier top and black skinny jeans Bethany chose disappeared from my mind. Grinning while my make-up failed at concealing my blushing cheeks, "Thanks, once the detox ran its course I was surprised, too."

"Sober's a good look on you," he admitted stepping into the elevator behind me.

"So where are we going?" I asked after he hadn't enlightened me when we arrived on the Strip sidewalk.

"That's privileged information," he replied reveling in the opportunity to hold something over my head.

"You being mysterious? I'm shocked," I remarked sarcastically at his smoke and mirrors presence.

"You're one to talk," he shot back, "Not so easy to figure out yourself."

As he held the door of a casino ajar for me, I tormented, "What happened to getting inside of people's minds? Quick, what's my favorite color?"

"I like that you're not an open book. That always means a better read."

The elevator ride seemed to be transporting us into the skyline it was so endless. Glancing down at me indignantly, "Plus, that's hardly mentalism. It's obviously red."

Mumbling in defeat, "Smart ass."

My voice caught in my throat after the doors opened revealing our surroundings. Glass plated every wall providing a rotating, unobstructed view of Vegas. He smiled smugly, "I thought you might like it."

Pulled straight out of a vintage French movie, an immaculate waiter directed us to a window table for two. Before sitting himself, Criss pulled out my chair gallantly. That sure as Hell has never happened to me before. These waiters could probably sweep my week's income in one shift.

"God, do you treat every girl to the Criss Angel experience?" I quizzed still taken aback by the picturesque setting. Candles, dim lighting, background band; the whole nine yards.

"Please, this is the first day off I've had since I came to Vegas," he denied ignoring my cheap shot, "Now where's that damn waiter. You drink red wine, I'd assume?"

"I thought sober was a good look on me," I pointed out.

"I'm sure tastefully intoxicated is as well. There's a fine line between tipsy and shitfaced. It'd do you well to learn it," he ricocheted giving me a taste of my own medicine.

A group of apparently blind patrons stormed our table like Normandy. One middle-aged, attention-deprived housewife ran a French-manicured talon down his arm, "You're that Criss Angel from TV., aren't you? The magician."

"Yes, ma'am. I'm flattered," he greeted infallibly polite as always.

The self-acclaimed cougar nudged her company and continued, "Can you show us a trick? Don't you guys want to see something? Come on, Criss."

Apparently I have a trick even he can't perform; I can turn invisible. If I had half the guff I did in my rebellious years, I would've clocked her without a second's hesitation. Criss' watchful glance latched onto mine, "Only if it's alright with the lady."

Choking her with kindness, I rested my chin in my hand smirking conceitedly, "I'd love to see just what he can do."

"Alright then, he rose from his seat extending his hand, "You said your name was?"

"Corrine," she responded with a flaccid handshake.

"Corrine, lovely name. Now just to clarify we've never met before," he rattled off his typical introduction.

"No, we haven't," she answered.

"Good, now one part of human nature is to cover our flaws. And one way we, myself included, do that is with make-up. Is it safe to say that you wear some sort of eye shadow or blush or lipstick?"

"All of the above," she confessed. And much more I imagine.

"Well," Criss began plucking a cloth napkin from our table, "I think it might be time for your husband to see your true colors."

After the cloth dropped from veiling her face, a new woman stood in her heels. Her eyes seemed to sink into her ashen, wrinkle-lined skin. An aghast yelp escaped from her pale lips.

With a quick bow, Criss retreated back to his seat, "Thank you, you all have a great night. Excuse me; can I get some Sangria, please?"

"What could you do if you used your powers for evil?" I pondered accepting my first glass once we'd ordered.

"Let's just be glad I'm such an angel," he amused himself tipping his glass back.

"Hardey har har, I'm not coming up with a stone joke, so don't hold your breath," I chuckled in response to his last name pun.

"Have a little more wine, I'm sure you'll crack soon," he prodded with a chortle.

Counterproductive of what I was saying I finished off my glass, "You must not know me if you think I'm some lightweight."

"Actually, I don't know much about you. For one thing, how does a waitress end up living in the Aladdin? I mean, I don't even know why they keep me around," he quizzed.

"Well, my mom graduated with the owner. In all honesty, she probably met him under the bleachers a few times. She helped him out through some of the planning stages of the restaurant. So after she died, he gave me a job. Instead of getting paid, I get room and board. Living on tips is an adventure," I explained startled at someone taking an interest in my recent, commonplace life.

"I'm so sorry to hear about your mom. When did she pass away?" he reminded me of one of the reasons why it's become lackluster,

"About a year ago. Brain cancer," I told him absentmindedly stroking my cheek. I'm sure that's some kind of psychological tick.

"My dad died from cancer 7 years ago," he forged a link to bind us.

Our meals arrived and were cleared, the band slowly died down, and we meandered around the Strip. In just hours, we opened up and grew on each other like, well, cancer.

Details about my mom's sickness I'd locked inside spilled from my mouth. The way she tried to glue her shedding hair to her scalp, the morbid thoughts she'd express in normal conversation, the hallucinations the medication conjured, how she muttered the Hail Mary for 9 hours the night before she died. All the things I never dared to think, yet alone speak.

In just hours, the man concealed behind his own curtain of illusion emerged. Criss Angel's alluring, almost supernatural personal might've pursued me, but never captivated me. Plain Criss, the Criss who watched someone he loved slowly wilt before his eyes and felt his heart tear like I did, caught me in his snare.

When we arrived at my door, my watch insisted it was 3 in the morning. Sighing in realization, I informed, "Damn if I don't have the early shift in four hours."

"I have a production meeting in five," he returned.

"Well, I mean we've already slept with each other. Where's the harm in waiting another night?" I laughed fumbling for my keycard in my purse.

"Sex on the first date? So tacky, but sex before the first date? Totally okay," he joined the cast of our own parody.

"Completely acceptable," I agreed, "Well, thank you so much for an amazing night, not to mention the roses from yesterday. You'll call me soon?"

"Of course, thank you for the idea. And since I've already seen how great you look naked, I guess this is nothing…"

His index finger pushed my shin up allowing him to press his lips to mine. Weightlessness suspended me in the moment. The trance broke as he slowly pulled away.

I traced his jaw line with my finger and informed, "That was definitely not nothing."

Lightly kissing the back of my hand he released as he walked away,"Sweet dreams, Olivia."

"Night, Criss."

Even though he believes we played every card we had, I still have an ace looming in my sleeve, a small skeleton lurking in my closet.


	9. Chapter 8

Through some unexplained miracle, my tin can of a car survived the 20 mile trip to Children's Hospital. The day I turned 16 I inherited my mom's Dodge Dart when she upgraded. She probably assumed it would die in a number of months, maybe even days. But somehow, after 7 years the little black shitbox is marching on.

Then again, it could've found its way to this hospital on autopilot. Kenny had countless appointments, endless treatments, and unsuccessful therapies in these halls. The only thing strengthening me to walk through the doors is knowing how many other kids' lives have been saved here. From my baby's death, how much research went towards helping others?

"Hey, hun," I was immediately greeted with an arm wound around my waist.

Quickly pecking his cheek, I returned, "Hey, babe. Sorry, I caught like every red light."

"No big deal, they're just starting to bring the kids down now," he explained leading me through the toy-littered waiting room, "You sure you're ready to meet everybody?"

Three weeks may seem haltingly soon to meet the family, but our relationship doesn't follow any accustomed timeline. Hopefully, the charming little darling I've turned into doesn't suddenly disappear, "Of course I am."

His brothers and mother attempted to inconspicuously get a first glance at his new girl. Since I was returning the curiosity, I couldn't get defensive. Criss paused in front of the trio grinning wildly, "Guys, I'd like you to meet Olivia. Olivia, these are my brothers, Costa and J.D. And this is my mother, Dimitria."

"Hey, it's so nice to meet you," I quickly shook his older brothers' hands.

His unbelievably precious mother stood on her tiptoes to affectionately kiss both of my cheeks like Criss warned me her Greek blood would compel her to do. Grasping both of my hands with a smile, she raved in a heavily accented voice, "Such a sweet, beautiful girl you found, Christopher."

"Thanks, Ma," he massaged the bridge of his nose and looked at the ground embarrassed.

"Thank you," I echoed with a laugh, "You raised a pretty great guy, too."

Once Criss and his brothers were whisked away to prepare for his trick, Dimitria and I stood alone shooting the sunshine. For the gigantic uproar everyone makes about impressing the mother, this seems too simple. Then again, I have beginner's luck and an incredibly sweet woman on my side.

"I'm surprised Christopher didn't end up in a hospital like this with all of the crazy things he did when he was a boy," she joked as wheelchairs and children filed in around us.

"I guess he's always had the talent on his side," I pointed out.

Already becoming thick as thieves, we traipsed toward the performance arm in arm. Young patients who hadn't experienced half of a real childhood giggled as he taught them a card trick. A young girl whose bandana-wrapped head held evidence of cancer climbed into his lap beaming. My lips unfolded into a similar grin.

"Hi, sweetheart, what's your name?" he gently asked the toddler balancing on his leg.

"Izzie," she answered. Her crystal blue eyes sparkled with optimism no adult could muster.

"Would you like to be my special helper, Izzie?" he goaded causing my heart to swell.

Nodding vigorously, he held her in place and reached to his side to retrieve a book. He displayed the front cover, "I saw this sitting in the waiting room; "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie", has anyone read this before?"

Many of the patients raised their hands excitedly. Opening to the first page, he began,  
"I think the story might be a little different this time. Now, Izzie here will be my page turner. Ready, here we go."

Each page he finished left the kids in more suspense wondering when he would so something magical. To look past how this used to be one of Kenny's favorite stories, I marveled at Criss' charisma. Without any practice around children, he even knew what voices to mimic and when to show pictures.

"Now, we've all heard about giving the mouse things, right? What if he gave us something, would you like that?" he quizzed.

All of them cheered and craned their necks to get a closer look. He continued, "Alright, then. Izzie, can you hold your hands out like this? Perfect, now watch."

After he removed his hands from on top of hers, a small white mouse scurried across her palm. Shrieks and giggles resonate from the entire group. Lifting Izzie to the ground, the kids took turns fondling the rodent and receiving hugs from Criss.

Traipsing over to stand between his mother and I, he chuckled, "Did you ladies enjoy the show?"

"That was beautiful, Christopher. I'm so glad you did that for the kids," Dimitria cooed enclosing his hand, "Your father would be so proud of you."

When she excused herself, I embraced him with a comforting smirk, "You alright?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" he disguised the pain resurfacing at the mention of his father.

Even though small children littered the room around is, I pressed my lips against his. Bracing his face between my hands, I assured, "He would be, you know that, right? Did you see how you made them laugh and smile?"

"How does that really help any of them?" he challenged dodging my line of questions, "No trick I can do is gonna cure them."

A young, distraught woman whose shoes I could easily put myself in two years ago stepped towards us. Her reddened eyes matched her bright auburn hair, "Hi, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I…"

"No problem, ma'am," Criss comforted shaking her nail-bitten hand, "What's your name?"

"I'm Lorriane, Izzie is my daughter," she explained as tears began to trace her high cheekbones, "Thank you so much for doing that for her. She's been such for months now, I haven't seen her smile that much for so long, Thank you so much."

Taking my turn to hug her whimpering form once he'd finished, I whispered close to her ear unbeknownst to Criss, "It all turns out good in the end. I promise."

Izzie ran towards her mom latching unto her leg like a security blanket. As Lorraine secretly dried her eyes, Criss hoisted the doll-like girl unto his hip, "I think you might have a performer on your hands, Mom. You were an amazing assistant, Izzie."

"I'm gonna be like you when I'm big," she announced poking his chest with a tiny finger.

"I bet you will. I bet you'll be even better than I am," he placed her on the ground searching for something in his pocket.

Dropping to one knee he scrawled, "To the Amazing Izzie. From Criss Angel" on the card box. Her eyes gleamed as he placed the deck in her hands, "You practice that trick I taught you, okay? Show it to everyone in the hospital."

With a shriek, she latched her thin arms around his neck, "Thank you! Thank you!"

"No problem, Amazing Izzie," he humored as a similar spark ignited his dark eyes.

"Mommy, Mommy, come on! I have to pwactice, come on!" Izzie persisted tugging on Lorraine's sleeve excitedly.

Before she followed her magic-intoxicated progeny, she remarked, "You really are an angel, aren't you?"

I ran my hand along his back, "I hate to say it, Christopher, but I told you so."

The unstoppable determination boiling inside of him overflew, "I'm gonna do something for every one of these kids. And so many fucking more. They deserve to believe, too."

"Well, you're not going in alone, that's for sure," I resolved.

Laughing with surprise, he solidified," Is that a promise?"

"Absolutely," I resolved becoming infected with his energy and so much more.


	10. Chapter 9

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If Criss' dedication to his art manifested as dictatorship, he would've achieved world domination years ago. Just hours after his body suspension stunt, he, his team, his family, and I congregated in his suite brainstorming. I'd already been initiated into his way of life seamlessly, even down to his cat, BInx, in my lap.

With the exclusion of senior prom and sleeping with my dealer, I've never _been _with someone before. And most people wouldn't consider either of the first two an actual relationship. Maybe that's why I'm freefalling into this one.

Diving into Criss' world doesn't take much time to get used to. Between his engaging personality, affection, and heart, it's nearly impossible to avoid growing attached. I tried to evade it before and look where that got me. No matter how hard you deny Fate it finds its own way to fulfill itself.

"Okay, so far we have the blanket vanish and the shadowbox. That gives us almost a whole show to fill," Joe Monti, one of his consultants, explained checking off a list.

From beside me, Criss fidgeted with his handcuff necklace, "I want to do buried alive."

"Excuse me?" Costa snapped vehemently.

"For homage to Houdini. I'm gonna bury myself," he elaborated appearing to not pick up on his brother's tone.

J.D.'s clenched fist crashed down unto the coffee table startling Dimitria, "Have you lost your goddamn mind?"

"I think I did that a long time ago, J.D. Where have you been?" he chuckled stretching his arms lackadaisically across the couch headrest.

"This isn't some kind of joke, Criss. Here's a word for you; limitations. Do you still remember you have those?" J.D. continued his onslaught.

For the first time, I watched Criss' temper flare, "Illusion is about testing limits. I guess you forgot that. I've been training for this, I can do it."

"Houdini almost died doing it, what the Hell makes you think you won't?" Costa reasoned trying to take the reasonable route with his younger brother.

Dimitria quietly skirted out of the living room writhing her hands nervously. J.D. hissed, "You are not putting Ma through that. Guys, back me up here."

The consultants glanced back and forth between the brother s contemplating whether to take the side of their employer or logic. Finally clearing his throat after a tension-filled silence, his production designer, John, spoke up, "Criss, just think about everything that could possibly go wrong with it. We literally have no control over anything. All in all, I just don't think it's a good idea."

"And think about Ma, after what happened with Dad. You can't do that to her," Costa added walking on broken glass.

Never one to disappoint Criss exploded, "I've worked my entire fucking life to get here! No one gets to choose what I do and don't do but me! Got it?"

Getting a grip on himself, he dejectedly apologized, "I'm sorry. Let's just, we'll figure this out tomorrow, alright?"

Everyone filed out of the room appearing to have their tail between their legs. Before searching to find their mother, J.D. clapped his hand over Criss' shoulder, "Try and take it easy, brother."

Unable to speak or move since he dropped the bomb, I sat alone unseeingly staring out the window. Every fear I've accumulated since childhood incorporated into his idea; the dark, clausterphobia, insects, isolation, death. Not to mention my hatred of funerals themselves.

People spend their entire lives running from burial. They pour time and money into treatments and cures to put off the grim certainty of death. How can he voluntarily throw himself six feet under knowing it may be permanent?

How can I watch one of the only people I care about in the world try to leave it again?

Falling unto the seat beside me, Criss pulled me into his side with one arm, "Thanks for being the only one to believe in me."

Unable to conceal my distress by biting my lip, I tried to gaze away from him. Immediately zeroing in on my awkward behavior, he questioned, "Liv? What's wrong?"

As I reeled my legs towards me, Minx scampered from my lap and elsewhere in the suite. Trying to remain collected, I reticently asked, "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you have to do the burial, Criss? Why that?" I elaborated feeling my tone come undone.

"I have to push the envelope, Olivia, it's what I do. It's what people want to see, I have to give them what they want," he explained.

"No one wants to see you get yourself killed. Who gives a shit about your ratings? Think about your crew and your friends and your family! Think about me, I don't want you to do this, Criss!"

Dimitria and J.D. edged towards the door behind our heads, "Maybe you can some sense into him, Liv."

"Shut up, J.D," Criss spat as the door shut after them, "I've gotta prove I can do what Houdini couldn't, don't you understand that?"

"An artist doesn't compare themselves to anyone. You can't base how you do off of someone else," I grabbed at straws for any way to change his mind.

"Then maybe I just need to prove it to myself, how about that?" he decided.

"Criss," I croaked feeling my eyes grow hot, "I'm begging you not to do this. I don't care if you light me on fire or cut me in half instead. I don't care, just please don't do this."

He brushed away the single tear that trailed down my cheek, "It's gonna be okay, babe. I promise."

"How can you know that?" I challenged, "You have no idea what'll happen."

"I just do."

Rising to my feet, I acknowledged the only play I had left to sway him, "Come on."

"Where are we going?" I interrogated as I lead him towards the door.

"There's something I have to show you."


	11. Chapter 10

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With each step that brought me closer to my confession, I felt my heartbeat bruise my chest. My brain tormented me with each laughter-filled memory. Like the nerve impulse providing them, they quickly shorted out.

The beaten path leading to the gravesite has haunted my every nightmare for two years. My self-assessed failure littered the trail showing I couldn't even save my own baby. What mother could let some disease take her son away?

"Where are we going?" Criss asked overflowing with confusion.

"We're almost there," I evaded his question even though there'd be nothing to hide soon.

After the rapid speed my heart had achieved, it stopped dead when we reached the gravestone. His humble headstone hardly justified the angel resting beneath it. Across the gray cement was scrawled, "Kendrick Adrian Stone. March 12th, 2000- July 28th, 2003. God's Special Angel."

Criss' eyes stared unblinking recovering from the blow I'd dealt him. Learning the woman he'd involved himself with had a dead son is impossible to comment on.

"I wanted to give him one of those monuments, but I couldn't afford one. After all of the chemo and hospital bills, I couldn't. But I mean how the fuck did it matter? He's gone, no statue is gonna make up for that."

Instead of barraging me with questions on excruciating details, he wrapped his arms around my trembling form. Tears and sobs that shook my entire body invaded the eerie silence of the graveyard. Slowly losing control of my limbs, I collapsed unto the grass with him right behind me.

Every memory I could recall spewed from my lips when I had enough air to fuel them. I told him the way Kenny would befriend any kid, adult, or animal he met. Or how he'd turn even the most mundane errand running into an adventure with imagined bad guys and sidekicks. He'd whisper in my ear and assure me they weren't really there, it was just a game.

Then the self-invented images turned into medicine-induced hallucinations. He'd scream until his voice gave out for the monsters to leave him and his mommy alone. The doctors he'd chattered away with morphed into villains who made him feel funny until the day they couldn't even do that.

They dragged me out of the room as the flat line droned through the entire hospital wing. Others forced me away from the grave while they lowered the miniature coffin below. I tried jumping into the hole; he couldn't sleep alone or else he wet the bed. Once he was gone, I discovered I needed his comfort just as much as he needed mine. I was a lost child without my own.

My mascara and tears stained his shirt after I'd cried every ounce of salt inside of me. Keeping his hold on me, he used his free hand to pull stray weeds from around the stone, "I'm so sorry, Olivia. I'm so fucking sorry."

"The one good thing I ever did and I let him die. It's all my fault," I decided unable to purge another tear.

"Don't you ever say that," he ordered tightening his grip, "You loved him more than anything and that's what he remembered. There was nothing else you could've done."

"I can't watch someone else go down in a coffin, Criss, please. Please don't do this to me," I pleaded.

"Babe, I'm not gonna stay down there. I swear to God, it can't kill me. There's no way I'm gonna let anything take me away from you, okay? I promise," he sealed his assurance with a kiss on my forehead.

Accepting his decision, I wound my fingers through his. Before we rose, I pressed my lips to the cold rock, "I love you, Kenny. You're Mommy's little angel."

As we stood above the tombstone, Criss informed, "I'm gonna take care of your mommy, Kenny. I won't ever let any monsters get her."

"Can't you bring him back? Isn't there some way you can make him alive again?" I suspended my disbelief in any merciful, omniscient force.

"I wish I could, Liv. More than anything in the world."


	12. Chapter 11

sUnlike the funerals I've attended before, the coffin perched empty beside the deep hole in the earth. Dirt piled high at its side similar to the tension boiling in everyone. Neither the thunder claps resounding in the distance nor the setting sin could've made the setting any darker.

Her two older sons anchored Dimitria to the ground each with an arm around her. Holding her handkerchief to her chattering lips she seemed to fight for each pained breath. Even though neither Costa nor J.D. had changed their opinions on the demonstration, they put up a front for their mother. The source of all of our anguish prepared frantically with his crew.

The metal of Criss' shackles fell out of the box and bounced against the mahogany wood. Swaying back and forth, the chain that could draw the line between his life and death antagonized me. Finally, I began to feel my emotions unwind.

Observing my distress, J.D. reeled me into the huddle, "I know this is insane, but if anyone can pull it off, it's him."

"God, I hope so," I whispered clutching unto Dimitria's unoccupied hand for her benefit just as much as my own.

A cameraman stalked over preparing to interrogate our horde, "What do you guys have to say about this newest stunt?"

Immediately intercepting his attempt at a filming, Criss stepped in between us, "No way, I said no interviews with them."

"But the producers sent me over…"

"I don't care," he snapped, "Go get shots of the coffin or something."

Although he'd insisted and planned for this night, he dejectedly scanned our faces ashamed of the pain he'd instigated. He sighed, "It'll all be over soon, guys."

"I certainly hope not," J.D. interpreted a different meaning.

Closing our circle, he pulled me into one side and Costa to the other. Our voices and tears were hidden from the gathering crowd. Criss cleared his throat, "Everything's gonna be alright. I've never trained so much in my life. We're gonna look back and laugh at this someday."

"I don't think I'll ever be able to laugh about this," Costa admitted disturbed by the morbidity surrounding them.

"Would you mind praying for us?" Criss implored.

"Father in Heaven, please be with Criss as he embarks on this dangerous stunt. Give him the strength and courage he needs to survive. And be with us; help us to stay strong for him. In the name of the Father, son, and Holy Spirit. Amen."

Prior to losing the usage of his arms, he embraced each of us. His normally reserved brothers held him with near back-breaking veracity. Dimitria repeatedly kissed his cheeks whimpering, "Please be careful, Christopher. I love you."

"I will, Ma," he returned, "I love you, too."

Unable to speak from the hysteria brewing in him, he silently wound his arms around me. Tremors shook his torso triggering identical ones from me. Dropping my hand once my arm would extend no further, "I've gotta go get chained up."

No matter how hard I tried to block out the memories fighting into my brain, they raged full force. Aside from the absent pole bearers and priest, the burial held true to the ones I've attended before. The slow tearing of my heart infected me with the same nostalgia.

Once he was bound in the coffin, we each approached him feeling like shards of glass were beneath our feet. Each pace threatened to exhaust whatever source my strength was brewing from. Criss' anxiety-ridden body morphed into Kenny's embalmed corpse in my delirium.

Saltwater clouded my vision as I bent over the box to kiss him for what I hoped wouldn't be the last time. In between my gasps, Criss informed, "There's something you need to know."

"Yeah?" I acknowledged futilely trying to dry my eyes.

"I love you."

Before the three foreign words translated, two gravediggers practically carried me away. The processors and synapses working madly in my mind finally elucidated the phrase. As I fell into my seat and the casket lowered into the earth, I finally understood.

Only two other people had ever told me so; one fueled by maternal instinct and the other from knowing nothing other than love. A year had passed since I told someone who would hear me the mislabeled cliché. Now I wanted to scream it until my throat bled. But six feet of dirt would've quickly silenced my shouts.

He can't do this to me. He can't begin to heal the immeasurable pain on my heart in 5 short weeks then abandon me. He can't temporarily quench my thirst then drain the spring.

In tune with my emotions, Dimitria clutched one of my knocking knees, "My Christopher cares about you, sweetheart. That will bring him up again."

To serve all of our nightmares poetic justice, the sky opened with downpour. A blanket was unfolded across our legs and umbrellas were hoisted above our heads. However, the cold and moisture couldn't hold a candle to the anguish the clock caused us.

With each rotation of the minute hand, more and more observers began pacing. Wristwatches earned increased glances to assure their owners time hadn't stood still. Stomach acid threatened to burn through my core every second the soil sat unmoving.

When Costa wearily shuffled over, I offered him the chair beside his inconsolable mother. Every joint and suture ached from the century I'd aged in one hour. A gathering of the crew had congregated beside the gravesite practically sent out apprehensive smoke signals.

Weaving into the quietly debating group, I questioned, "Should this be taking so long?"

"We didn't exactly have the opportunity to rehearse, so it's hard to say," John admitted.

"Well, it's been an hour now. When are we gonna consider, you know, pulling him out?" I continued always keeping an eye on the freshly laid soil.

Everyone glanced to each other apparently stringing an impossibly complex reply together. J.D. shifted his weight nervously and simply answered, "We're not."

My strained heart froze, "What?"

"Criss told us if something went wrong to leave him in there," he explained, "He didn't want you or Ma to know."

"No! You can't do that!" I shrieked.

"Olivia, we have to follow what he told us!" J.D. defended with tight lips aware of the scene we were on the edge of.

"How can you even think about leaving your own brother out here in the middle of nowhere? I'm not letting you do that to your mother and I'm sure as Hell not gonna stand here while he suffocates down there!" I decided pulling a shovel from the water-soaked ground, "I'll do it myself!"

A deafening chorus of "no's" resounded from the entire group. Preventing my blade from unsettling the earth, an overseer forced my arms to my sides. He threatened, "We'll take her out of here if you can't keep her under control."

"I'm not going anywhere! Get the fuck off of me!" I yelped fighting past his restraint, "CRISS!"

Leading me away from security and towards the audience, J.D. remarked, "I'll take care of it, sir. If you mess with the dirt, it could all collapse on him."

"It probably already has," I spat vehemently, "And you're all just letting it happen."

"Keep her here," he ordered Costa giving him the responsibility of two hysterical women, "She obviously just doesn't get it…"

"LOOK!"

Illuminated by the lightning, a seemingly living dead arm pushed through the earth. We all instantly rose to our feet cheering with every sound our exhausted bodies could conjure. Through nothing short of a miracle, a gasping disheveled Criss fought for solid ground.

Storming the scene, his family and I shoved through cameramen and medics. My heart flew once I was sure he was truly in front of me and not another hallucination. Since he'd just exhumed every ounce of his strength, I dropped to my knees tasting the dirt on his skin and salt from my eyes as I finally returned, "I love you. I love you, too, Criss."

And like he'd promised, he hadn't allowed the monster than was death to keep him away from me.


	13. Chapter 12

**For the record, I have nothing against and mean no offense to real people mentioned in this story. It just makes the story better! Thanks for reading, keep up the reviews!**

Paperwork and calendars exploded across the coffee table in what some would consider "organized chaos." Binx had already been banished from the living room for attempting to upset the system. Balancing the phone with my shoulder, I quickly scrawled across an open slot in my planner, "Yes, that's perfect. So that'll be Saturday, two weeks from now, which is the 18th? Would it be alright if our film crew came with him? Excellent, so we'll be there at around 11 to set up. Thank you so much, if you have any questions, my name is Olivia Stone, I'll be your coordinator and you have my number. Thank you. Goodbye!"

Just as quickly as our relationship has solidified, so has the charity we promised to create. Hospitals and schools have already taken the bait which elated us. Since he understood my passion for helping these kids just like every other aspect of me, he decided I'd be in charge of the outreach. In just two months, he's taken me into a world I never thought could be my own.

Whenever Bethany is free, she comes to the suite helping me lay the foundations of the someday organization. Criss teases me when he comes home that his workaholic mindset seems to have rubbed off on me. If he's feeling overwhelmingly playful, he marvels that I haven't forced him into reserving time with me yet. I'd erase an entire timeslot just to be with him though.

Interrupting my lovesick rant, the door clicked open as I assumed the object of my daydream arrived home. The sound of heels against tile quickly debunked my theory, "Who the Hell are you?"

I slowly rose up from the couch approaching the fuming blonde with caution, "I'm pretty sure I should be the one asking that since you're the one in my home."

"Your home?" she spat haughtily, "I'm surprised they even let little whores like you in the Aladdin."

"Well, I guess that might explain how you got in here," I ricocheted embracing my inner catty teenager, "I think you took a wrong turn, the Motel 6 is out towards Henderson."

"You've got quite a pair down there, don't you?" she chuckled giving me a condescending onceover.

Quickly losing my appetite for cheap shots, I demanded, "Who are you?"

Her dark eyebrows which matched her traitorous roots rose towards the ceiling, "You don't know who I am?"

"Why the Hell would I be asking if I did?" I challenged wishing I hadn't put my sharp-pointed pen down.

"So much sass, I'm almost impressed," she continued to amuse herself,

I finally lost all patience and stalked towards the phone, "I'm not playing with your bullshit, lady. Tell me who you are right now or I'm calling Criss."

"Why don't you? Let him know his wife is here."

The cold plastic fell from my hand as I felt all of the air escape from my lungs, "What?"

"He didn't tell you?" she maniacally shouted, "Oh my God, that's priceless. Keeping his personal life a secret from the prostitute. Well, let me introduce myself, I'm Joanne Sarantakos. It's a pleasure to meet you, let me guess, Candy or Summer. Or, oh, I've got it, Roxanne."

"You'd better put that hand down before I snap it," I suggested instinctively curling my fingers into a fist.

"You don't want to see my ring?" she antagonized. I never thought a solitaire diamond could be used as a torture device.

"Get out," I ordered unaware of how long I'd be able to restrain my hysteria.

"I'm not going anywhere, you must be pretty fucking dumb, sweetie. Did my husband not pay you yet? Here, I'll spot him," she pushed me dangerously close to a psychotic break, "What's he owe you? Three hundred, no I'd give you more like two fifty."

"If I'm a cheap whore, then why've I been sleeping with your husband for two months," unable to resist, "Bitch."

Her fist collided with my nose knocking me into the cupboards. Before I could retaliate, she spat on my shirt and stormed out of the suite. But my throbbing head and blood spewing nose couldn't compare with the anguish she'd inflicted on my heart.


	14. Chapter 13

Between the pain rampaging through my skull and fury blurring my vision, ninety percent of my clothes missed the suitcase by a mile. Creating unheard of slurs, I forcefully slammed each drawer after me. The bedroom door opened interrupting my onslaught, "What the Hell is going on?"

"You hardly have the right to ask that," I snapped keeping my back to him.

"What?" he asked.

"Two months, you couldn't find one goddamn time to mention you're married," I hissed coming dangerously close to tearing the shirt in my hands.

Complete speechlessness filled the space between us. After what felt like a millennium, he remarked, "Fuck."

"Fuck? You lied to me about everything, and all you have to say is fuck?" I ranted storming out the second door, "Oh my God, you're married!"

Following me closer than my own shadow, he defended, "Olivia, whoever told you about Joanne obviously forgot to mention that we've been separated for a year now."

I pivoted on my foot finally allowing him to observe my battered face, "She forgot to mention that."

"Liv, sweetheart…"

Even though tears threatened to pierce through my shield, I swatted his normally comforting touch away, "Don't touch me!"

"Hun, you need to go get this checked out. Can we at least talk about this on the way to the hospital?" he implored pulling his keys from his pocket hastily.

Damn him and his fucking chivalry. Gingerly touching the swelling consuming the right half of my face, I informed, "I already went to the ER, it's a mild concussion. The nurse gave me a Vicadin to take before I sleep, nothing's gonna help the black eye."

She asked the run of the mill domestic violence questions which I adamantly denied. Then again indirectly, that's exactly what this is.

"I'm so sorry, babe," he groveled cautiously taking the seat beside me on the couch, "I never thought she'd ever go this far."

"How could you lie to me about everything?" I asked feeling my voice crack in despair, "About you. About her. About loving me…"

"Olivia, don't! I know I never told you about Joanne, but that doesn't change me loving you for one goddamn second," he corrected emphatically turning my chin to face him.

Salt from my tears burned the gash ironically caused by her engagement ring as I fled from the living room, "Yes, it does! It changes everything! You're the only person I've ever let in my heart and you just spit on it! I told you everything about my mom, the drugs, Kenny! I love you and you just fucking betrayed me."

"I do love you, Olivia," he heavily enunciated each syllable trying to hypnotize me into belief.

"You can only be in love with one person, Criss!" I explained, "Just like I'm only in love with you. And why would you marry someone you didn't love?"

"A long time ago, I did love her," he admitted, "But then she changed. She didn't understand that Criss Angel isn't who I really am. Not like you do, how you get everything about me. But I don't anymore, Liv, you're my world."

Unable to deny the fact that I was truly enamored with him, I sighed, "You promise there's nothing between you two? You're gonna leave her?"

"I'll take care of it ASAP, I swear on my life," he vowed seizing the opportunity to embrace me, "You deserve way more than being a mistress."

My eyeliner disintegrated my fingers as I wiped at it, "She thought I was a prostitute. Do I look like a goddamn hooker to you?"

"Maybe one of the gorgeous ones CEOs pay 10 K a pop for," he replied with a grin.

"Well played," I sealed my forgiveness with a peck on his lips, "My head feels like it's gonna explode. It's time to take that pill and pass out."

With an arm around my shoulders, he guided me towards where the altercation began, "She ever talks to you again, I want you to punch her back, got it?"

"No shit," I agreed, "I think I still have a pair of brass knuckles from high school."

"I'll let you borrow mine."

In retrospect, mild brain trauma is a light price to pay for what I've got.


	15. Chapter 14

Both the lagging capabilities of Vicadin and the sudden chaos engulfing the bedroom sent me into shellshock. The stitching of the sheets had imprinted on my skin showing evidence I'd been incapacitated all night. From behind my back, Criss shouted, "There's no negotiation here, Joanne. We're done!"

His phone threatened to burst into flames from the fury rolling off of him, "It's over. That was the last straw."

Forcing myself to sit up from the warm sanctuary in the blankets, I perched on the edge of the mattress. He stared out the window unaware of his audience, "You broke into my suite and punched my girlfriend in the face, that's the last damn straw! Yeah, my girlfriend, you heard me. How is it any different from the guys you've been sleeping with for the past two years?"

Snickering indifferently, "Bullshit you want to sort things out. There's nothing between us to work out anymore. You just don't want a lawsuit, that's all. Here's how it's gonna go; you sign the papers without any of that legal shit and I won't take Olivia down to the station. Got it?"

With a deep breath, he added, "And don't you fuck with my family ever again. Olivia is more of my family than you ever were. I'll see you at the hearing."

Even though I rallied for the divorce, I hated anything that could take the gleam away from his eyes. Silently stepping over to him, I latched onto his limp hand, "Thank you. I know it still has to hurt."

"All the signs were there from the beginning. I should've seen it coming a long time ago. But," he began turning to lace his arms around my waist, "I can only change the future, right?"

Interrupting our almost necessary affection, my phone squealed from across the room on my nightstand, "Who the Hell is calling at 6:30?"

Since my reasoning hadn't solidified at the early hour, I crawled across the bed like a child. Before the sun is officially in the sky, a few dimwitted chances are acceptable, "Hello?"

"Is this Olivia Stone?"

"Yes, may I ask whose calling?" I asked attempting to conceal the worry in my tone.

Criss' glance of concern was only met with my mouthed reply of, "I don't know." The shrill, obviously female voice answered, "I'm Corrine Samuels, I'm a nurse at St. John's in Henderson. Is Darius Stone your father?"

Due to the unique nature of his name there was no chance of any mix-up. But Darius was as much my father as the man who masquerades as Santa at Macy's. In 23 years, I've seen him 1o times when he brought my mom their under the table child support. Not that his money truly gave me any support.

"Yes, he is. Is there something wrong?"

"Mr. Stone passed away this morning from a heart attack. We can't get a hold of any of his legitimate family, so we…"

A lifetime of frustration from my lovechild status exploded, "Did you just call me illegitimate? I haven't seen him in years. I couldn't identify him if I wanted to. And why would you trust what his little bastard has to say?"

Flinging the phone to the ground, I buried my face in my hands. He embraced me compassionately pressing his lips against my temple, "You're not a bastard, it was his choice not to take care of you and your mom."

From the saga of my life, he'd already heard about my absent father. I gazed out the window at the already chaotic state of the skyline, "I guess we're just getting hit with everything all at once. Getting it all out of the way, ya know?'

"What goes around comes back around," he pointed out.

And he was right, everything I've lived through always comes back again. s


	16. Chapter 15

Considering the funerals I've attended in the past two years, today should be nothing. There was only a stranger in the coffin; not the woman who sacrificed everything for me or the little boy I modified my entire life for. Even though apathy doesn't require any moral support, Criss insisted on coming with me to do so.

"You can still change your mind, ya know? We don't have to go," he reasoned as we pulled into the cemetery parking lot.

"Actually, at this point, dear, we kinda do," I corrected squeezing his knee in the driver's seat.

When you arrive at most places in a Rolls Royce, people shower both you and the car with awestruck gazes. But amongst my "father's" colleagues and well-endowed true family, we were a Mercedes in a sea of Lexus's. A dainty housewife, doll-like daughter, and statuesque son emerged from a BMW.

It's a wonder Darius even took a second glance at my raven-haired mother. Maybe he continued his affair with her through the pregnancy on the possibility I may've been a genetic fluke. Once he took a gander at my ebony curls that matched my mom's he probably walked out of the hospital.

If I would've fulfilled his blonde-haired, blue-eyed criteria, maybe I would've grown up amongst the high life scenery. Instead of stressing myself into a school-induced pill addiction from the stress of college acceptance, I could've bought my way into any university. All my dark features and lovechild status warranted was yearly shut up money.

Every year two days after my birthday, the tall stranger my mom tried to explain was my daddy paid a visit. Why didn't he play catch with me or look at my drawings? Embracing me just before my thirteenth birthday, she explained, "He's not that kind of daddy, sweetheart."

Eavesdropping from the small hole in my bedroom wall, I watched Darius wipe his Armani shoes on our moth-eaten doormat, "Evening, Eloise."

"Darius," she returned drumming her ring-free fingers against the doorframe, "Do you have something for me?"

"Not for you," he corrected pulling a check from his breast pocket, "For Olivia."

"Wow, you even remember her name. I'm surprised," she chuckled folding her arms across her chest.

"Will 5,000 cover all of her expenses?" he asked seemingly repulsed to be in our fleabag apartment.

"If it doesn't you'll be the first to know," she informed.

"I even cut into my gambling budget, something special for the big 1-3."

"How noble of you."

As we approached his gravesite, I estimated the cost of just the flowers blew my "1-3" bonus out of the water. Finding two inconspicuous seats in the back row, we settled in just as the priest began, "Our Father in Heaven blesses each of us with gifts. Darius Stone was blessed with many; a strong faith, a successful business, and most importantly his beautiful family."

I bit down on my tongue nearly hard enough to draw blood. Before I could let my rage take control of me, Criss' hand wound through mine, "You're more beautiful than he ever deserved to know."

Countless eulogies about this supposedly incredible man I never knew carried on for what felt like centuries. If any of these people knew who I was, they'd be knocked down from their dream world. Dabbing her eyes with a silk handkerchief, his wife blubbered on through each "heart of gold" speech.

That bitch couldn't hold a candle to the woman my mother was. In her little castle in her gated community, she turned her plastic molded nose up at the rest of the world. Marrying into riches, she couldn't even understand what my mom went through for me. I'll spit in his damn grave if you want me to, Mom.

Finally, the ceremony ended and we approached the closed casket. Just like every day of my entire life, I didn't truly know he was there. The trust fund kids, my half siblings, shot me side swept glares. How did this blue collar girl wind up at their prestigious father's funeral? If only they knew, if everyone knew.

Standing in front of the slowly filling grave, Criss embraced me against the oncoming draft, "You okay?"

Each shovelful of dirt further divided the chasm between us that I thought could never grow wider, "My whole family's gone. I, I'm the only one left."

He gazed so far through my jade eyes that I knew he was reading my soul, "I know I can't be your mom, or Kenny, or your dad. But you've got me and that's never gonna change."

"What more could I ask for?"

As soon as we stepped into the car, rain splattered down unto the windshield.


	17. Chapter 16

**Only one more update guys! Keep up the hits and reviews! Thanks!**

Letting my hair down from its uniform ponytail, I walked from the restaurant to the crowded lobby. Bethany ruled that our 9 hour shift was not enough time to learn about my recent happenings, so she interrogated, "She just broke into his suite?"

"Yeah, and she obviously wasn't expecting any company," I replied pointing at the bruising around my eye that was slowly emerging from behind my make-up.

"You should've punched the bitch back," she suggested surreptitiously counting her tips.

"Well, it doesn't matter because she signed the papers a couple weeks ago. The files just have to go through the system," I corrected triumphantly.

She nudged my shoulder goading and nearly pushing me into an oncoming couple, "So how does it feel to drive a man to leave his wife, Miss Stone?"

"It's not exactly like that," I defended feeling my phone vibrate veraciously in my purse.

"You're a big deal, Liv, that's for sure."

Even though I didn't have the budget to afford a caller ID, reasoning told me only one person knew the exact time my shift ended, "Hey, Criss."

"Hey, babe," his voice echoed in the earpiece, "How was work?"

"Just the same old, what's up?" I asked trimming the bush he was beating around.

"Come out to the Belagio fountain. Bring Bethany if you want."

"What, wait how the Hell did you know I'm with her?" I spun around searching for him or a camera, "Didn't we talk about not using your Jedi mind games unless it's an emergency?"

"I can hear her yapping in the background, hun. So are you coming or what?"

With a giggle, I informed, "Yeah, we'll be over soon. Love you."

"Love you, too."

The moment I pressed the end button, Bethany began, "What's happening?"

"He wants us to meet him out at the fountain," I answered.

"That's odd. Then again your boyfriend isn't exactly normal," she decided as we traipsed out the doors, "No offense."

"None taken."

As promised, Criss stood expectantly amongst the fountain's accent lights. The droning of the running water nearly overpowered his voice, "Hey, doll."

Ever since I moved into his suite, I've been mystified by his perfect view of the lake. Just like the dilapidated sound machine that simulated waves to help me sleep while I was young, the water outside the window soothes me each night, I carefully wrapped my arms around his torso, "What's going on?"

"What do you mean, what's going on?" he prolonged the suspense, "I can't just call my girlfriend out to the fountain?"

"You usually don't drag out the best friend, too," Bethany called never one to fade into the background.

Heading her advice, he peered down at me, "Guess what's officially final."

"Oh my God, really?" I instinctively bounced as joy enveloped me, "Is it bitchy to say congrats on the divorce?"

"No, it'd be bitchy to slap him like I still kind of want to," Bethany interjected, "No offense, Criss."

"I deserve it, I'm surprised Liv didn't somehow abuse me for that," he concurred.

"It's all water under the bridge now," I pointed out with some fear that Bethany may follow up on her hunch.

"So you trust me?"

Taken aback by his sudden death, I stumbled through my response, "Well, yeah I-I do."

He grasped unto my wind chilled hand and led me towards the oncoming crowd. At the precipice of the mob, several crew members held cameras expectantly. Trailing just steps behind us, Bethany continued, "I'm glad we really figured out what's going on."

"Hello, everybody! Thank you so much for coming out tonight, you are all about to see something unlike anything I, or anyone else, has ever tried before!" he shouted over the excess noise, "Now, I could stand here and ramble on about this performance, but there are only two things that really matter; the iconic Belagio fountain and my beautiful girlfriend, Olivia. So without further adieu, here we go."

Just to me, he whispered, "You sure you trust me?"

"Yes, I already said that. Why do you keep asking that, of course, I do…"

"Look down."

My entire body paralyzed as I saw the glassy surface I was stepping on. Suspended above the water, I mouthed words hoping my voice would reemerge. Criss gently pulled me further across the lake, "Come on, Liv. Just look at me. Trust me."

Concrete fundamentals completely dissipated; states of matter, gravity, every notion of humanity itself. Fear threatened to seize control of me, "How?"

"It doesn't matter, Liv. Don't be afraid," he demanded breathing heavily to create enough energy for two of us, "Just believe."

From behind is, I faintly heard the swarm cheering and screaming wildly. Most of the latter could probably be attributed to Bethany. The gleam in Criss' eyes transported me into reality, "Can you hear me?"

"Yeah."

"Good, because I love you. And I know I can't even think about living without you. So here goes everything."

As his hand passed over the geyser, the underwater lights reflected. A diamond ring perched between his fingers, "Olivia Isobel Stone, will you marry me?"

Shrieking wildly I threw my arms around his neck pushing us into the water. Sharks and piranhas could've infested the lake, but our smiles wouldn't fade. Everyone watching went wild when they saw the band slide unto my finger. Tears streamed down my cheeks, "Criss?"

"Yeah?"

Two words I never really knew existed whispered into the air, "I believe."


	18. Chapter 17: The End

** FINAL UPDATE**

Just twenty-four months ago, Sunset Park represented every ounce of emotional trauma I'd withstood. Regardless of the joy intoxicated children running everywhere, I could never laugh and smile in unison. Visions of a dark-haired boy haunted the corners of my eyes.

Olivia Stone allowed the absence of her father to propel her to an addiction. She found a second chance with her son and mother who were forced to leave her as well. Forming a shield around her she prohibited anyone from coming in or leaving. She nearly allowed her past to take her prisoner.

But one day, someone entered her life and unknowingly picked the locks. The hope and life that had been collapsed by grief slowly emerged from the rubble. This rekindled sapling slowly grew into who I am today; Olivia Sarantakos.

Instead of isolating myself as a lonely waitress, Bethany and I created a charity that's already helped thousands of families. Driven by my desire to honor Kenny, I helped impact the world. My former self didn't simply disappear; it only evolved into the woman I've become.

Now, I walked through the paths of the park hand in hand with my husband of two years. He persisted, "Will you just tell me what you're plotting already?"

"I resent that remark," I tortured him relentlessly and failed at smirking innocently.

With a chuckle, he corrected, "You resemble that remark."

In two years, our marriage has endured more than most do in a lifetime. We've survived family crises, a move to the Luxor, an incredibly hectic work schedule, arguments, and hundreds of near death experiences. But the love bonding us never faltered for a moment.

"So are you ready?" I goaded decreasing the speed of each step.

"What was your first clue?" he teased pulling me against him grinning, "What's up, sweetheart?"

A new wooden bench replaced my former concrete dungeon. I ran my hands along his arms trying to dodge his glance, "I got a call today."

"And?"

Finally staring up to his face, a smile threatened to shatter my cheekbones, "I'm pregnant."

For the first time since I've met him, true surprise paralyzed his demeanor. His eyes reddened as he effortlessly threw me around in a circle, "Oh my God! Holy shit, we're having a baby!"

I shrieked and giggled with complete joy as my feet returned to the ground. Carefully stroking my tentatively flat stomach, he whispered as tears identical to mine streaked his cheeks, "This is the best day of my fucking life. I love you so much, Liv."

"I love you, too. I've never been this happy."

Amongst the child-created chaos we'd soon dive into seated on the replaced bench, we pressed our lips together electrifying complete bliss. We made the only truly beautiful thing two people can create. From nothing, we'd built an unbreakable affinity. Completing the lesson he began the day we met, it doesn't matter how something happens as long as it's for the better.

**Thanks so much for reading, guys! It means so much to me. If you could put in a final review, that would be great!**


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